


one or two more clicks and i'll take you home

by smoll_jane



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, missing each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:23:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoll_jane/pseuds/smoll_jane
Summary: He is a model, not an actor. But still, he has to act all day as if he doesn't know the one he loves.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	one or two more clicks and i'll take you home

**Author's Note:**

> hi there ! 
> 
> i've written this quite a long time ago, but i noticed today that i've never posted it. so here it is ! this is not my best one to be honest, i worked less on it than i usually do, but still it's better here than gathering dust in my drafts !  
> enjoy, and as usual leave a kudo and let me know what you thought of it~
> 
> take care ♡

The flashlights are hurting his eyes today, he shouldn't have stayed awake so late last night. But sleeping in an empty bed keeps you awake whether you want it or not. He hates being this sensitive, hates feeling his heart on the verge of a deep cliff whenever something doesn't feel right. Like right now, as he sees the concerned face of the shooting director looking at the previews of the last _three_ _hours_ he spent under the aggressive lights.

"Junhui, I think there's something to change about your facial expression!"

If he could hiss, he'd do it. Claw out, too. The director leaves the set, shaking his head as if Junhui was the worst model he'd ever had under his spotlights.

The photographer gives him a sorry smile before readjusting his camera, but before he can press on the button and let the billionth click of the day resonate in the studio, Jeonghan bursts in the room, a phone stuck between his ear and shoulder, a pile of files bigger than Junhui's collection of books in the arms, an annoyed expression painted on his face. Not caring about the set-up nor the photographer working, he crosses the immaculate white floor to approach Junhui and hands him the phone.

"Your mother," he mouths before turning to the photographer. "He'll be taking a break for a moment." And just like that, he goes away.

Junhui can't help but smile at the sight of the storm already leaving the room. It takes him three seconds to realize his mom is on the other end of the line and lift it to his ear.

"Mom?" Getting to pronounce that cherished word already soothes his emotions, and he already feels like the strange chair he's been sitting on for the past hour is more comfortable.

"Oh darling, how good it is to hear your voice." Junhui always compared his mother's voice to a chirping bird, and he likes imagining the smile on her face when he hears these words. "How are you doing sweetie? Haven't you been working too hard lately? Please don't forget to rest and eat your meals my son and, oh! I've bought the magazine you've made the cover of the other day! It's really impressive baby, I'm proud of you as always. You- oh my god, it's already time for me to go and pick your brother up at school. I'll call you later honey ! I love you!"

Junhui closes his eyes. "I love you too mom." She already hung up.

If he compares his mother's voice to a bird, he can also compare her to a bird in her whole. Volatile, fleeting, hard to catch, delicate and precious. It be like that sometimes. Often, actually, but he got used to it, learnt to appreciate these little pieces of time, to grab them on the spot and know you can't keep them for too long.

The photographer left his spot when he looks for him, and he decides he deserves a real break. If there wasn't something, a particular detail to keep him head up today, Junhui thinks he could hide in the bathroom and shed a few tears. There are days when it's the only way to let the sorrow out, clean the rust of habit and sweep the boredom away. This way, or another Junhui can only afford too few times.

Knowing Minghao is somewhere in the building is helping him a lot. Knowing how things will naturally happen later in the day keeps him head out of the water. But for now, he has to settle with the idea, nothing tangible.

That's what he thought. But when he opens the bathroom door, his heart jumps, stops, restarts too fast, stalls, pounds crazily. And yet, the only outer reaction he can allow himself to have is to smile. Minghao, washing his hands at the sink turns the head to him, taking a blink to recognize him before straightening up and smiling too.

He missed his smile. Missed the way his lashes brush his cheeks when he closes his eyes. Missed the way his whole body, heart, mind, nerves set up differently in his presence. How much would he like to run and take him in his arms to never ever let him go.

"Your hair grew longer," is all he can say. Because what could he say that wouldn't compromise any of them? He's too scared to drop a "I missed you", a "I love you", a "The sheets are clean and waiting for you at home."

Minghao smiles, so softly Junhui has to cling on the door knob he's been clutching for the past seconds to not melt on the spot. Minghao raises a hand to catch a jet black strand, fiddles it for a second before letting it fall back in place. It's reaching his shoulders, now. How long has it been?

In a way, it's almost hurting. Or maybe it really is. Not being able to touch him, to tell him everything he'd like to say. Minghao makes his way to the exit, Junhui frees place in the doorway for him, and during a ridiculously short second their hands brush against each other.

"See you later," Minghao whispers.

That too, he missed it. Minghao's voice. Minghao whispering, Minghao talking to him. He sometimes surprises himself imagining that Minghao is talking to him when he watches interviews. And later, when they call each other, lying in bed each on an other side of the world, he realizes Minghao doesn't have the same voice when he's talking to him. He realizes Minghao has a particular intonation made just for him, just for when he gifts him love words, for when he asks him to buy tea, to ask him how his day has been.

And just like that, the rest of the day is easier. The director comes back in the studio, doesn't ask Junhui to change anything, Jeonghan seems satisfied. And so is Junhui.

Because the closer to the evening he gets, the lighter his heart is.

***

If flashes could damage skin, Junhui would look like an 80 years old when the photograph finally packs his camera and thanks him for the day.

With an unhidden sigh, Junhui stands up to stretch his sore limbs and yawns overtly. When he's done waking up, a smile instinctively takes place on his face. It's time to go home. A _home_ that will no longer be empty tonight. He's about to get out when Jeonghan enters with a smile that announces nothing but the end of the day for Junhui.

"There's a party downstairs," he starts, rolling his eyes at Junhui's wince. "Xu Minghao broke the record of sales for a magazine, it won't be too long don't worry."

Junhui knows the surprise on his face is immediately followed with pride that Jeonghan notices effortlessly. A smirk crooks his cheek as he opens the door to let Junhui pass before walking next to him.

"It's been a long time since he last came to the agency. One month? Two?"

_One month and thirteen days._

"Oh I don't know, a couple of weeks I'd say?"

Junhui has never been good at hiding anything to Jeonghan. But Jeonghan has always been good at faking to not notice it, and that, makes Junhui thankful in a way he can't start to explain.

Minghao looks godly when Junhui notices him in the small crowd, down the stairs. There is an aura shrouding him, an aura of goodness residing in the way he smiles at the people congratulating him, of natural beauty in the way he moves, shakes hands, grace in how his long coat floats around him and his lashes beat the air.

Minghao looks up when Junhui reaches the floor, time suspending for a short second when their eyes meet. And then again, a smile, different, just for him. Splendid and instantaneous, it fades away just when the stare starts to be too long to stay conventional.

Fucking conventions. Fucking society. Another day, Junhui could have had to get out and catch some fresh air to manage his overwhelming, but today Minghao is back and he doesn't want to miss a second of his presence. So he sighs, accepts a flute of champagne and offers fake smiles to people he has never seen before.

He feels cramped in his blazer. Sleeves rolled on his forearms, waist tightened with a useless belt, he dreams to take all of this off and disappear in the intimacy of home. Take Minghao by the hand and run away to never get back.

But things are what they are, he can't allow himself to stare at Minghao but also can't stop counting the appetizers he's offered. Minghao's smile fades as he eats, as the crowd around him gets denser.

So, when he apologizes and goes away in the dark corridors, Junhui immediately knows. He waits one, two, three, four, five seconds, and he follows him. The noise fades behind him, Minghao's steps already stopped, he's alone.

There's light under the door of the restroom, the sound of water flowing, coughing. Gently, Junhui pushes the door open, makes himself a place next to Minghao who didn't notice his presence, crouched on himself to cover his ears with his hands and shut his eyes close.

It doesn't take long for Junhui to become a part of the kingdom Minghao protected himself in. The door a shield, the water flowing a force field, his spot behind the sink a secret chamber. Junhui sits down, leaning against the wall, counts Minghao's breathing and slowly, gently slides a hand on his shoulder.

A shiver runs down Minghao's spine, his hands freeze against his face for a second, but after this he lets them fall down and opens his eyes, staring at the marbled floor, slightly leaning in Junhui's touch.

"I'm glad to be back," his voice cracks a bit from the withheld tears. "It was hard being alone." He sniffles, and his whole body relaxes in a shot, he leans against Junhui, wraps his arms around his waist, hides his face against his chest.

"I know," Junhui whispers against Minghao's hair. "I'm here now." He rubs his back, feels the soft silk under his palm, inhales Minghao's perfume.

A loud bang on the door makes the both of them startle and straighten up. "Is everything okay in there?" It is Jeonghan's voice. Junhui sighs of relief, quickly leans down to kiss Minghao, cherishing, blessing the missed feeling of this stolen contact. Minghao holds him back for a second, clinging on his wrist, not letting go of his lips, still shaking a little.

"Yeah I'm coming Han!" Junhui answers. And then, quieter, just for Minghao : "Play just for a little longer, and then we're going home, okay? Hold on for a little while."

He nods, sniffles again, and they finally have to let go of each other, skin slipping and running free. Junhui turns the tap off and quickly gets out of the small bathroom, hurriedly closing the door behind him.

As expected, Jeonghan is there, waiting for him, and with a forced smile he drags him away, back to the lobby, freeing the way for Minghao to get out. Junhui wraps an arm around his manager's shoulder, deeply exhaling to avoid getting overwhelmed.

"Is he okay?" The words take him by surprise, the gentleness in Jeonghan's voice, too. If Junhui stiffens up a bit at first, he doesn't take long to feel his heart filling up with gratitude and he squeezes his friend's shoulder, nodding.

"He is, now. I guess."

***

He thought the evening would never end, he would never feel the outside air against his skin ever again, and he would never allow himself to be excited about going home. He knows Minghao won't take long before calling a cab to follow and leave the agency too, but he can't help but hope it won't take too long. He wants Minghao _for him_. He wants Minghao _home_. And he wants it now.

He has only taken off his coat and dropped his bag on the floor when he hears the code being typed in at the door. His heart starts running, the corner of his lips automatically lift up. A loud sigh follows the sound of the door opening, but as soon as he hears it closing, Junhui runs to the lobby to find Minghao, exhausted.

They're safe, here. They're at home, they're at their place. Nothing can happen. So Junhui lifts Minghao up, giggles, hugs him tightly, covers his mouth with kisses, feels love getting its place back in his heart. And Minghao smiles and nothing else matters.

"Welcome home."


End file.
